The First Step to Forgiveness
by KitKatt0430
Summary: (DCTVGen Bingo 2019) Hartley is a nervous wreck, meeting his parents for lunch for the first time in years. But despite all the awkwardness, lunch actually goes fairly well. Well enough that they might even manage to reconcile with one another without it all falling apart again.


Summary: Hartley is a nervous wreck, meeting his parents for lunch for the first time in years. But despite all the awkwardness, lunch actually goes fairly well. Well enough that they might even manage to reconcile with one another without it all falling apart again.

A/N: For slot N2 on my DCTVGen bingo card - Hartley Rathaway.

Often I write Hartley as continuing to be distanced from/disowned by his parents. That's because the show doesn't depict anything leading up to Hartley being reconciled with his parents. But it does show, and heavily imply, them treating him awfully and that's... hard to forgive. But I do love how happy Hartley looks when he says he's got an important dinner with his parents and perhaps something like this is the first step towards how he got there.

_**The First Step to Forgiveness**_

Hartley's clothes are in piles all over his bed and floor which, in retrospect, should have been the first sign of how nervous he was. But as he was standing in front of the mirror checking his shirt and pants for the umpteenth time (and considering changing for what was quite likely the dozenth time), he noticed his hands were shaking a little.

His first instinct was to assume he'd had way too much caffeine, but when he glanced over at his tea on the night stand, it was mostly untouched and, having been made some time earlier, stone cold. Not caffeine, then.

Nerves.

Hartley padded into the kitchen with his tea and committed sacrilege - reheating the tea in the microwave - and then wrapped his hands around the warm cup while seated on his couch. He still didn't really drink it, but instead just used its warmth and delicious smell to help settle himself down. There was still half an hour before he needed to leave and even then he was probably going to be early.

He'd thought that morning he'd get dressed and then read something. A physical book, not ebook or fanfic, specifically so that the weight of the binding and smell of the pages would help help ground and calm him. Instead he'd... gone completely overboard on picking out his clothing, wasting pretty much the whole morning away in an anxiety ridden fugue as he methodically emptied out his closet, and he suddenly wasn't looking forward to cleaning that up this afternoon.

He was most definitely not calm.

All this anxiety over a lunch that probably wouldn't last the whole hour. Of course... this was a lunch with his parents. The first time he'd seen them in person since they threw him out of the house, out of their lives.

There's this voice in the back of his head asking if the reward is really worth the risk. He could still call this off, still decide that they made their choice years ago, still give into the fear that they haven't really changed and there's some ulterior motive...

Hartley let the thoughts slip away as he drank his tea and checked the clock. Twenty-six minutes until he'd leave to meet his parents at a cafe in walking distance to his apartment. His pants were a dark navy pair of jeans, his shirt a comfortable, plain forest green. He'd need to slide on some shoes before leaving.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table in front of him. A text coming in. Hartley unlocked the screen and then relaxed further, a small smile showing up on his face.

'Stop freaking out. It's going to be fine. Call me after lunch and let me know how you're doing, okay?' - Cisco

Hartley responded affirmatively. An unexpected friendship where Hartley had thought he'd always only find scorn... and maybe it was a sign. If he could mend bridges where he'd screwed up with Cisco, then maybe his parents could mend bridges where they'd screwed up with him.

It was going to be okay.

Hartley set the timer on his phone, resolved to ignore the clock, and then grabbed a well worn copy of The Book of Myst off the table to read.

* * *

Hartley arrived at the cafe ten minutes early and, since it was a nice day, he took a seat at a table outside. He told himself that he hadn't made that decision on how much faster he could bolt after paying his check if things went badly.

The self reassurance only sort of helped.

He grabbed one of the paper napkins to have something in his hands to distract himself with only to have to fold it back up and shove it away when he realized all he would end up with would be a twisted, shredded mess to deal with. He wished he had a fidget cube, or just something non-breakable, to direct his nervous energy towards and did his best not to drum his fingers on the table. He found that annoying enough when other people did it; he hated doing that himself.

"Hartley?"

Looking up, Hartley smiled even as his stomach twisted uneasily. His parents were walking towards him.

This was a good thing, right?

Right.

Hartley stood up, uncertain how to greet his parents after all this time. "Mother. Father." The appellations felt awkward and uncomfortable as he spoke them. He wasn't used to saying them without some underlying bitterness in his tone.

No bitterness today. Such massive amounts of anxiety that it was a miracle Hartley wasn't vibrating like a speedster trying to phase through a wall, but no bitterness.

Rachel made an abortive movement forward, then hesitantly asked, "may I hug you?"

Hartley is so glad she asked. If she'd just hugged him, he'd have probably freaked out. But she asked so... it might be okay. Probably okay. "Yes, it's fine." Hartley stepped forward and they hugged. It was brief and tense and Hartley's relieved when its over, but...

It was a hug from his mother. It was nice.

It was very, very nice.

Osgood does not do hugs. He clasps Hartley's hand and its so serious that Hartley has to clamp down hard on the nervous laughter that bubbles in his chest.

It's the first time he's touched his parents in years and his skin feels weird afterwards, his hand prickling with the sensation of shaking his father's hand, his cheek hanging on to the feeling of his mother's hair, his shoulders retaining the warmth of his mother's hands...

He's not sure how to process any of this.

They all settle at the table, Hartley back in his chair and his parents across the table from him.

"How... how have you been lately?" Rachel asks, her tone uncertain.

Hartley hesitates a moment, not sure what to tell them about. "I've been well," he answers slowly, deciding for now not to tell them about being a meta. If they ask about his hearing aids, well... he won't lie to them. But hopefully they'll leave the subject alone for today. He's not ready to tell them about his enhanced hearing. "I've been working at Mercury Labs for the last several months. I like it a lot there; the research is fascinating and I may have a new patent in the works soon." The ambience was nicer than STAR Labs too. He'd never realized how tense that place used to make him, even back when he'd been Wells' favorite, until he'd been working at Mercury Labs for a few weeks and realized he went home with a smile on his face nearly every day.

"How about the two of you?" he asked, turning the question around. "How have things been for you?" What he really wants to ask, but doesn't, is 'why did you ask to meet me?'

"I... I had a bit of a health scare after the last time you... you tried to call," Rachel said, voice turning guilty as she referenced Hartley's phone call.

It had been the night their Fire and Ice painting had been stolen. They wouldn't even speak to him and the only message they imparted to him was 'the Rathaways have no son'.

He'd spent most of that night a crying wreck, unable to calm himself from the expected, awful slight due to the high levels of constant stress he'd been under. He'd eventually passed out, still crying, sometime in the early hours of the morning and woken to the news of the theft on his phone's tumblr feed. He'd been vengefully pleased at their loss and righteously pissed off that they cared more about the safe return of a painting than they did about his well being. Learning about the painting's destruction had sent him into hysterical laughter that ended in more crying.

"What happened?" Hartley asked, keeping his voice level, not letting the past pain - or present pain, for that matter - slip through.

"I had a tumor. It was benign, thankfully, but it... it made me, made us, rethink some of our decisions."

Hartley feels disappointment curl in his chest. He's glad his mother's alright, of course. Very glad she doesn't have cancer. But... it shouldn't have taken a potential brush with cancer to make her realize she'd been wrong to disown him. To realize her homophobia was awful and wrong and... there was no guarantee she even knew that. Maybe she just wanted to reconcile without acknowledging that she needed to change. And Osgood... was he even sorry at all? He hadn't spoken a word yet, beyond their tense greeting and handshake.

"I'm sorry, Hartley." Rachel's voice hitches. "I'm so sorry. How we treated you was wrong and it shouldn't have taken us this long to see it for ourselves. I've used every excuse I could to hang on to my hatred and fear and when you turned out to be gay, instead of recognizing my treatment of gay people was wrong, I lashed out at you. I'm sorry for that. And... I'm sorry I didn't realize I was wrong sooner, that it took being afraid of dying to make me realize how much I still want my son in my life. I pushed you away for selfish reasons and only realized I was wrong for selfish reasons too.

"If you decide after today you never want to see us again, I'd understand," she admitted quietly.

Hartley didn't even realize he'd reached out to her until he was holding his mother's hand across the table. "Why do you think I call every year, even knowing things probably wouldn't have changed? I want you both in my life. But... I want you two to want me in your life, too. Not some idealized version of me that never existed... I want you to love me for who I am, not in spite of who I am."

All he's asking for is the unconditional love they promised him as a child. It shouldn't feel like he's asking for something impossible, but Hartley's utterly terrified now that he's spoken the words because... what if that's too much to ask of them, even now?

Rachel looks like she's about to start crying and... something undefinable flickers across Osgood's face. The waitress shows up and then looks like she wants to bolt when she realizes there's a lot of emotions happening at this table.

But they order lunch - Hartley's been there before, knows the chicken salad sandwich is good, and goes with that instead of checking the menu. His parents need a few moments to glance before ordering the first thing that sounded good. They all order sodas too and then things get awkward when the waitress leaves.

"You never did pull your punches verbally did you," Osgood sighed quietly. He sounded... proud. "I suspect there's more than a few hard truths you have to offer us before we can even begin to truly work to earn your trust back. I would like to get to know you, Hartley."

Hartley swallowed hard, wishing his drink was there already. His mouth felt suddenly dry and his face hot, chest tight. His eyes weren't stinging with tears yet, but it was a near thing. He knew the signs well.

"I'd like that too."

* * *

Lunch lasted longer than an hour. More like two.

It was awkward with odd silences and more than once Hartley thought that maybe it was time to pack it up for the day, but... they stayed out there sipping drinks and catching up on... whatever came to mind. His parents filled him in on relatives he'd lost touch with and Hartley told them about his research. He stayed vague about his time at STAR Labs towards the end, not wanting to discuss anything to do with the accelerator, which his parents seemed to realize as they changed the subject to his new job at Mercury Labs. They asked if he was seeing anyone and seemed genuinely interested to hear about Hartley's crush, though he went vague on identity details for now.

They seemed like they were still uncomfortable with him having feelings for another man, though. But... Hartley had seen that sort of uncomfortableness before in others - had felt it himself for other reasons - and it was the sort that came from shaking off old preconceptions. They weren't there yet, but they were trying.

He walked away from the cafe with good feelings about where this was going.

Once back in his apartment, Hartley peeked into his bedroom and grimaced at the mess. He very deliberately shut the door and sprawled out on his couch, pulling out his phone to call Cisco. He could clean later.


End file.
